Among the various questions I was asked, one stands out because it is a question that I never thought to ask when I was an undergraduate student myself and only recently became aware of.  There are important implications for historical study when the necessary primary sources are not only unavailable but, in all likelihood, no longer exist at all.

This student was looking for a primary source similar in scope and detail to Suetonius’ Twelve Caesars which ends with the death of the third Flavian emperor, Domitian in AD 98.  The most obvious extension of Suetonius’ work is of course the Historia Augusta that chronicles the reign of Hadrian beginning in AD 117 to Carinus in AD 284.  Written during the reigns of Diocletian and Constantine (Diocletian reigned from AD 284 until his abdication in AD 305; Constantine reigned from AD 306-337 and was sole emperor from AD 324 until his death), the authors of this document claim to be picking up precisely where Suetonius left off.  This of course suggests that the reigns of the Five Good Emperors and that of Trajan were once included in this compilation as well and have since disappeared.

More recently, scholars have disputed this claim, stating that there is nothing to suggest that the Historia Augusta ever contained the histories of emperors prior to Hadrian.  So where did we get the information on these emperors?  And what can be said about the information from the Historia Augusta on the emperors from Hadrian to Carinus?

At this stage, I will address the latter question.  The Historia Augusta is not a primary source for the second half of the second century AD.  It was written nearly one hundred years later by an author, or multiple authors (that debate still rages as well), who could not have seen the events they described unless they lived well into their hundreds (as unlikely 2,000 years ago as it is today).  Therefore it is a wonderful primary source for the fourth century AD but must be taken with grains of salt regarding the second.  It is also largely agreed that the information in the opening pages of the HA are much more reasonably objective than the grossly unsubstantiated details in the later chapters, where chronologies and events vary sometimes by decades.

In situations like this – and, in fact, it is good academic practice to take every primary source at less than face value – we can compare and contrast the primary sources that are available to paint a fuller picture of events at a given point in time.  What the HA cannot offer with reasonable accuracy, we can sometimes find in other sources, such as the letters of Simon bar Kochba written during the Second Jewish Rebellion in AD 132-136, the report on aqueducts written by Rome’s Water Commissioner, Sextus Julius Frontinus, in the first century AD, and even other historical treatises that may be Roman but do not represent eye-witness accounts or living testaments to the nature of the world in the second century AD.

One must look at historical evidence with the same discerning eye that a jury considers witness statements during a trial.  Are they trustworthy accounts?  Is there something about one account that makes more or less sense than another?  Are there details that do not quite fit that you feel would benefit from further study to confirm or deny?  Remember, what you might consider an outlandish description may in fact have more grounding in truth that you would expect.

Never assume, always corroborate.  Happy hunting!

The wall once ran right across northern England for 117km and cut off the Caledonian ‘barbarians’ from the romanized civilians to the south.  Hadrian built it as part of his campaign of peace and stabilitythroughout the empire (he also had another border built along the farthest reaches of Roman Africa.   Following the massive expansion efforts under Trajan (including the conquest of Dacia in AD 106 and the campaigns against the Parthians beginning in AD 107), Hadrian was faced with a formidable task when he came to power following Trajan’s death in AD 117:  how to consolidate power and stabilize the Roman empire when it had been overstretched for far too long.  Among his various solutions – some successful, some not – were the construction of the wall in Britain and the huge pallisade across North Africa.

Among the benefits of such an undertaking, the construction of Hadrian’s Wall in Britain kept some potentially rebellious soldiers occupied with other tasks.  The wall took years to build as legionaries dug the foundation from the cold, wet clay-mud of northern England and built the forts and milecastles to maintain security at the Empire’s northern border.

The Wall is a rather surprising thing to see, particularly when you only realise after the fact that you have indeed seen it.  During one train trip to Edinburgh, the train I was on passed by a rural neighbourhood near the east coast and there, nestled in a little valley between the train tracks and a farm house, was a small pile of cut stone.  Nothing so spectacular as some of the taller sections and certainly less impressive than the restored section of the wall, this little bit of Hadrian’s political power was enough to catch in my throat all the history that it stood for, and still does stand for.

Also from The Guardian, here is a cute little video of the lighting of the wall this weekend.  THe music may be a bit schmalzy, but it’s a lovely event none-the-less.

Most recently – and, as far as I’m aware, not the first time this has been implemented – a group of archaeologist who discovered a huge sealed urn utilized the X-ray machines at the Exeter Airport to determine what was inside it.  The answer was the remains of a Roman, discovered at the site of a Roman fort at St. Andrews Hill in Cullompton.

From the dates of the fort and of the urn, it appears that this site was abandoned shortly after the Romans established more definite control over the south coast of England.  This would have been years after the Boudiccan Revolt of 60-61 AD/CE and well after the sweeping invasions of Aulus Plautius during the reign of Claudius (41-54 AD/CE).  In AD/CE 43, distinguished senator Aulus Plautius landed at Rutupiae with four legions:  the Second Augusta, the Ninth Hispania, the Fourteenth Gemina and the Twentieth Valeria Victrix.  The Ninth Hispania would later march north in 117 AD/CE to support the defeat of an uprising and were never heard from again (although it is argued that they survived their stint in Britain and were thereafter posted to the East, where they were destroyed during the Bar Kochba Revolt in Judaea) .  The Second Augusta was commanded by the future emperor Vespasian, sweeping through the countryside to Wales, where they established their base of operations at Caerleon in the Usk valley.

Ventotene was famous in antiquity for being the island upon which noble ladies of Roman society were exiled to for committing heinous acts of adultery or treason.  Among the most unfortunate of these ladies was the only child of the emperor Augustus himself.  He exiled his daughter Julia there after discovering an affair that could have severely damaged the image of the imperial family as one embodying the most traditional of Roman virtues.

Archaeologists are hopeful that, among the delicious cargo, the ships may yield imperial correspondence from between the first century BCE and the fourth century CE.

Part way up the hillside – artificially increased by Herod himself to a further height of 65 feet and overlooking a vast expanse of desert, with Jerusalem to the east - Netzer’s team have found architraves, friezes, and cornices all decorated with various Judaea and Nabataean funerary motifs (Herod’s mother was from Petra, capital of the Nabataeans).  However, the most stellar discovery thus far has been the remains of a smashed sarcophagus, and specifically its red limestone fragments decorated with rosettes.  It appears that the mausoleum stood on the eastern slope of the great palatial fortress – the largest in the Roman world, author Barbara Kreiger points out - on a base 30 by 30 feet and originally standing approximately 80 feet high. 

Without letting assumptions cloud observations, the whole site seems to indicate nothing less than the mausoleum of the king himself.  Jodi Magness, an archaeologist in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of Maryland, and Ken Holum, curator of the Smithsonian exhibition ‘King Herod’s Dream’ both feel that Ehud Netzer has found what has eluded archaeologists for two hundred years.

From Herodium’s first identification in 1838 by Edward Robinson who, like Heinrich Schliemann with Homer at Troy, used the extant works of Flavius Josephus to seek out the site, to confirmation of that identification by german archaeologist Conrad Schick, Herodium has been under the scrutiny of diligent archaeologists for two centuries.  In the 1860s, French explorer Felicien de Saulcy, began an outright search for Herod’s tomb.  From 1963 to 1967, Father Virgilio Corbo of the Franciscan Faculty of Biblical Sciences and Archaeology in Rome scoured the summit.  Lambert Dolphin, an American geophysicist, worked through the 1983 dig season analysing the base of the highest of the fortress’s four towers.  Netzer’s own work, begun on the site in the 1970s and continuing since then, allowed him to further narrow down possible locations for the tomb.  His 2007 discoveries are, he believes, as conclusive as can be expected.

However, Duane Roller, professor emeritus at Ohio State University, suggests instead that Herod’s tomb is at the base of the summit tower and not part-way up the slope at the site of Netzer’s dig.  One of Roller’s main arguments against this site as the location of Herod’s tomb is that no inscriptions have been found to positively identify the mausoleum.  Refuting this comment is the evidence that inscriptions were not the norm in Judaean burials during the first century CE when Herod died.

More to the point, the body of King Herod is no longer entombed at Herodium.  Coins recovered from the site, along with the obvious destruction pattern of the sarcophagus itself, suggest that the mausoleum was desecrated some time during the first Jewish Rebellion against the Romans in 66-74 CE.  Herod was a particularly ruthless king who killed much of his own family before he died, fearing they were plotting against him.  He had come to power with the support of the Roman princeps Augustus, whom he had befriended while in exile in Rome, and his reign was marked with ambitious building projects throughout Judaea.  Among his most famous were the fortresses at Herodium and Masada and the great temple at Jerusalem, built to replace the First Temple that was destroyed by the Persians in the sixth century BCE.

Archaeologists who are not already affiliated with the site and those scholars who find ancient Judaea endlessly alluring will, if they have not already, begin flocking to the site and those who do not will watch avidly for news of further discoveries at Herodium.  It is clear that Ehud Netzer’s career as an archaeologist has reached new heights of success, and we can only hope that his team will continue surprising the world with news of King Herod.

An article from The Toronto Star seems to be caught between reporting on plans for archaeological work and discussing the aesthetic value of one of ancient history’s most beguiling figures. 

The three sites are all near Alexandria, the Ptolemaic capitol of Egypt, and home of the famous Library where Cleopatra and Antony committed suicide following their defeat at Actium by the future Roman emperor Augustus in 31BC. 

The issue of the Pharaoh Queen’s beauty is and will continue to be hotly contested.  Coins from the period show a rather mannish profile, which some suggest accurately reflected Cleopatra’s looks.  Others, more rightly so in the opinion of this writer, suggest that the coinage profile took on the attributes of the Ptolemaic dynasty to lend legitimacy to each ruler.  Thus, if you consider all the coins available showing the face of any Ptolemy, you will likely note that they are all very similar.  Ptolemy I was a Macedonian general under Alexander the Great who took Egypt as his kingdom and took the name of Pharaoh after Alexander’s death in 323BC.  Cleopatra bears a truly remarkably resemblance to the first Macedonian Pharaoh, with physical characteristics that were unlikely to have been purely genetic.

This writer is much more interested to see what the Egyptian digs unearth, particularly if the body of Marc Antony is conclusively identified.  Neither Antony nor Cleopatra will likely be anything like what anyone expects, but they will certainly still be the great lovers who faced oblivion rather than slavery to Rome.

The AIRC is an organisation of archaeologists, scholars and researchers who work in association with local and government authorities to ensure the study and preservation of Ancient Rome continues.  More information on their work can be found at their website:  www.romanculture.org

The Second Punic War between Carthage and Rome at the end of the third century BCE left an indelible stamp on the collective consciousness of the Roman people.  After more than fifteen years of war as the Carthaginian general Hannibal laid the Italian peninsula low, Rome had to relearn how to fight and win wars.  Hannibal’s presence so close for so long left a perpetual fear in the minds of the Romans and established him as a specter of hate in literature .  Modern scholarship has continued those traditions by distancing themselves from the emotive reactions to the war and instead choosing to critique the generalship of Hannibal on ‘strategic’ and ‘tactical’ levels.  These are of course anachronisms, for no such concept of professional warfare existed at that time .  Collective and continuous planning of a war was impossible; decisions were always made in the field and at the moment they were needed .  This is not to say that there were never any attempts at long-term planning among the ancient Carthaginians or the Romans but that it was not planning as recognized by modern methods.  Anachronism has led to other confusion in scholarship as well.

Hannibal is perhaps one of the most enigmatic generals in Roman history and no clear, universally-accepted consensus of his abilities exists in current scholarship.  Of course, there need not be only one opinion of the man but the scholarship itself is very polarized and from a variety of different perspectives.  The lack of analytical framework makes a study of Hannibal difficult simply because no scholar has felt restrained by any standardized structure in their critiques.  On the other hand, this restraint was exercised by ancient historians whose works are still extant.  The most complete extant history of the Second Punic War and the historical figures who acted in it is by the Greek Polybius in his Histories.  In his third book, Polybius provides a very concise and potentially very subjective framework for his standards of a good general: 

For there is no denying that he who thinks that there is anything more essential to a general than the knowledge of his opponent’s principles and character, is both ignorant and foolish. For as in combats between man and man and rank and rank, he who means to conquer must observe how best to attain his aim, and what naked or unprotected part of the enemy is visible, so he who is in command must try to see in the enemy’s general not what part of his body is exposed, but what are the weak spots that can be discovered in his mind. For there are many men who, owing to indolence and general inactivity, bring to utter ruin not only the welfare of the state but their private fortunes as well; while there are many others so fond of wine that they cannot even go to sleep without fuddling themselves with drink; and some, owing to their abandonment to venery and the consequent derangement of their minds, have not only ruined their countries their fortunes but brought their lives to a shameful end. But cowardice and stupidity are vices which , disgraceful as they are in private to those who have them, are when found in a general the greatest of public calamities. For not only do they render his army inefficient but often expose those who confide in him to the greatest perils. Rashness on the other hand on his part and undue boldness and blind anger, as well as vaingloriousness and conceit, are easy to be taken advantage of by his enemy and are most dangerous to his friends; for such a general is the easy victim of all manner of plots, ambushes, and cheatery. Therefore the leader who will soonest gain a decisive victory, is he who is able to perceive the faults of others, and to choose that manner and means of attacking the enemy which will take full advantage of the weaknesses of their commander. For just as a ship if deprived of its pilot will fall with its whole crew into the hands of the enemy, so the general who is his opponent’s master in strategy and reasoning may often capture his whole army. [III.81-82]

Polybius very clearly states that the key to being a good general is the ability to understand one’s opponent; in this way, one can predict his actions as they are dictated by his character.  Polybius sees that a bad general can be the destruction of an army while a good general who knows precisely where to strike to achieve victory preserves his army from harm.  Polybius proceeds to outline the importance of ‘knowing thy enemy’ by listing some of the negative traits a general should not possess because they would inhibit this understanding of one’s opponent [III.81.4-9].  The fact that Polybius does not explicitly state the opposite and therefore positive traits a general should have creates a notable ambiguity.  The Greek historian was careful to note that there was more to the actions of a man than the actions themselves; many factors could come into play that would affect or influence his decision-making abilities [IX.22-26]. 

To ‘know thy enemy’, Hannibal makes himself aware of the nature of Roman warfare.  Swift decisive victories are most covetously sought, and Roman commanders, in positions of power oftentimes temporarily, will forge ahead to achieve such ends as quickly as possible.  The Carthaginian general is able to take advantage of this weakness and defeat the Romans in three major battles in Italy.  There is also an historical irony to appreciate here:  Hannibal is accused of youthful impetuosity , but it is the Roman commanders who most often display it in Polybius’ narrative.  Hannibal, despite personality traits that sometimes condemn him in Polybius’ eyes , can be recognized as an effective general based on the framework quoted above.
Just as importantly, the methodology modern scholars use to describe Hannibal’s generalship is also of paramount concern here.  Polybius is rarely read before any scholarly works have been referred to, so modern interpretations colour one’s approach to Polybius.  What is the nature of their perspectives?

Leonard Cottrell observed that most historians admire or idolize Hannibal for the good reason that he had a “right to heroic status” but that his genius may have been evil as was Hitler’s .  He readily admits that he does not have the experience that Polybius considered so vital to a clear understanding of generalship , and although Cottrell is not a soldier himself, he chose to travel to the places in question with his volumes of the Histories .  He also believes that Hannibal would have inspired the same kind of leadership in the 1960s had he been a contemporary of Cottrell.  Cottrell does draw a distinction between the Carthaginian and his nemesis, P. Cornelius Scipio Africanus, saying that Scipio was a great “soldier-statesman” but that Hannibal was only a great soldier .

William Harris, in his famous book War and Imperialism in Republican Rome, wrote that Hannibal took advantage of the nature of Rome’s “foreign policy” and left for Italy before the Romans could comfortably deliberate and act .  Erich Gruen also sees actions by Hannibal, particularly at the start of the Second Punic War, as opportunistic.  He observes that Hannibal did not attack Saguntum in Spain until the Romans had become involved in Illyria in the spring of 219 BCE .  According to Gruen’s interpretations of the ‘reluctant Roman empire’ amidst Hellenistic power struggles, Hannibal could thus have been responding to Rome in the manner of a Hellenistic king.  This will be addressed later on within this paper to understand the perspective of Polybius himself as he makes his assertions and judgments.

Nigel Bagnall also believes Polybius’ assertion that Rome waged a defensive war, but does not agree with that argument .  In the Romans, Bagnall sees a “cultural predisposition for war” and believes that “the only destruction which can safely been drawn is that Hannibal was bent on war and Rome was not loath to accept the challenge” .  In regards to Hannibal’s tactics and strengths, he writes that the “potential of the mobile arm was exploited to the full by Hannibal, so enabling the Carthaginians to dominate the open battlefield” .  According to Bagnall, Hannibal’s “strategic objective” was to go to Italy and reduce Rome to a city-state without depending on a fleet, and that “Hannibal’s operational aim was to destroy the Roman army, which he saw as the cohesive force holding the Roman Confederacy together” .  Bagnall’s treatment of Hannibal as a strategic general is much more explicit than much previous scholarship and thus also clearly links his professional tactical judgment with his character.

At the tactical level, Hannibal reorganized the solid formations of his army so as to introduce far greater flexibility.  This enabled him not only to deploy his army so as to make full use of the ground, as at Trasimene, but also to maneuver and encircle an opponent, as at Cannae.  Offensive action and the achievement of surprise, mobility and flexibility leading to encirclement, were Hannibal’s hallmarks .

Hannibal was also mentally and physically robust, imaginative and so innovative, fearless without being foolhardy, unswerving in pursuit of his objective, outstandingly competent professionally through intellectual study and ruthless when necessary .

Bagnall readily agrees to the characterizations of Hannibal by ancient scholars such as Polybius, but he does so in a manner more willingly digested by modern scholars.  Hannibal was ruthless and cruel when he had to be, not because it was an innate part of his character .  Bagnall is also greatly impressed at Hannibal’s tactical skills and exemplifies two of his greatest battles as he describes how the Carthaginian army moved quickly and fluidly to ensure their victories.

One of the world’s greatest scholars on Hannibal and Carthage, Serge Lancel, draws attention to the bias of Livy that Hannibal was a genius but impious, cruel, and pejoratively Carthaginian .  He also explicitly states his interpretation of Polybius’ reflections:  “Polybius’ opinion… is favourable overall, that he most frequently exonerates him of many of the accusations laid against him by Roman historiography…and even that he cannot praise him enough for the specifically military qualities of an army leader” .  Lancel believes that Hannibal’s move into Italy was brilliant since the Romans never suspected it, that he was wise to make arrangements to protect Spain and Africa in 219, and that Hannibal himself changed Roman conceptions of war and the nature of command .

Lancel also adequately outlines the fear Hannibal invoked in the Roman people:  “the memory was still alive of the one enemy who had come within inches of nipping in the bud the greatest undertaking of political and territorial domination the world has ever seen” .  This is the fear that Polybius was so adept at avoiding letting slip into his narrative.  In all honesty, Polybius himself had a different perspective on that fear, not having been a Roman living with the terror of Hannibal in Italy, but he was close enough to members of the Roman aristocracy to observe how closely they held it to their hearts, almost fifty years afterwards.

All these scholars are studying Hannibal in an attempt to reconstruct the historical figure from the surviving texts and other evidence.  But none of them take into account the Polybian interpretation of Hannibal’s actions to discern the literary figure created within the narrative of the Histories.  Arthur Eckstein does look at the Histories in its own right and thus avoids the touchy terminology that plagues most historians.  He outlines the two major aspects of Polybius’ narrative that will be of concern here.  First, that the exact nature of a ‘best policy’ a statesman can engage in is “to maintain as much independence as possible in the face of power” .  However, there is a great deal to consider when trying to understand the natures of these public figures since there is so much that can influence them away from their intended purposes or force them down other avenues that do not reflect the character of the statesman . 

Now, this has strayed from the intended purpose of this paper, but towards a utilitarian result.  The manner in which Polybius outlined his statements about good generalship – that one must be able to see the weaknesses in one’s opponent – and the ambiguities inherent in the actions of statesmen go hand in hand.  Hannibal must have been aware of this veil of ‘truth’  in order to make decisions that Polybius would have appreciated in a positive light. 

Thus, an examination of three of the major battles that take place in Book III of the Histories and the judgments that Polybius makes both for and against Hannibal’s conduct will reveal the extent to which Polybius’ framework for the good general can be applied to Hannibal.  In Book III, the narrative includes the initiation of hostilities at Saguntum in Spain, to the move to and crossing of the Alps, to the first years of war in Italy, which included the battles at the River Trebia, Lake Trasimene, and Cannae .  Since the siege of Saguntum involved more interaction between Carthage and Rome than between Hannibal and any Roman general, it will not be discussed here.  Instead, the focus of this paper will rest on the Trebia and Sempronius Longus, Trasimene and Flaminius, and Cannae and Varro.

Before the Trebia, before the crossing of the Alps, Hannibal outmaneuvered the two Roman consuls sent to meet him in Gaul, P. Cornelius Scipio (senior) and Ti. Sempronius Longus [III.41.4-9].  The Roman armies were in bad form for having underestimated their adversary, but their initial plans had been astute.  They had planned to send the two consuls to Africa and force and engagement away from Italian soil [III.40.2], something that would eventually prove to be the only effective method of extracting Hannibal from the peninsula . 

In regards to Hannibal’s crossing of the ‘impassable’ Alps, Polybius condemns the ridiculous assumptions made by historians of his time that the Carthaginian army only survived by sheer luck instead of the prowess of their general. 

Can we imagine a more imprudent general or a more incompetent leader than Hannibal would have been if with so large an army under his command and all his hopes of ultimate success resting on it, he did not know the roads and the country, as these writers say, and had absolutely no idea where he was marching or against whom, or in fact if his enterprise were feasible or not? [III.48ff]

Many modern historians have doubted that the aims of the Carthaginian were realistic; Polybius did not.  He believed, from his own research, that Hannibal could very well have had every intention of doing as he suggested.  More importantly, however, Polybius recognized a responsibility in Hannibal to ensure the safety of his army for the success of his ambitions. 

This leads into the battle at the River Trebia between Hannibal and his army and the Roman army under the two consuls for 218 BCE.  After a thorough explication of Scipio’s considerations about the region around the river, Polybius relates that Hannibal was in contrast with Scipio in wishing for battle here.  “For when a general has brought his army into a foreign country and is engaged in such a risky enterprise, his only hope of safety lies in constantly keeping alive the hopes of his allies.  Such, then, was the purpose of Hannibal, who knew that Tiberius was sure to be aggressively inclined” [III.70.11-12].  How exactly he knew this is a matter of debate among modern historians, but the general consensus is that the Roman style of warfare was to look for decisive victories as quickly as possible . 

In this case, it appears Hannibal was correct.  His Numidian horsemen drew out the Roman army under Sempronius Longus and towards the battle ground chosen by Hannibal himself, “his wish being to get the enemy to fight him before they had breakfasted or made any preparations” [III.71.11].  Here again, modern historians observe that the Romans were more interested in careful deliberations before declaring war than they were of quick action , and that this had cost them dearly in being unable to intercept the Carthaginians before they reached Italy.  If this was true, then Hannibal could have believed that that same mentality would affect the temperament of the soldiers he was forcing into combat. 

It was this battle that led to a violent reaction by the Romans, one that Polybius understood as a dangerously unpredictable situation that would eventually turn against Hannibal.  “For the Romans both in public and in private are most to be feared when they stand in real danger” [III.75.8].  Naturally, this is a stance the Greek historian would take when one of his aims in the Histories was to show how Rome came to be rulers of the known world [I.1].  This cannot be used to show that Hannibal underestimated his adversary and struck a powerful blow without knowing that the retaliation would be enormous.  There had been no such situation before in Roman history, in politics or warfare or otherwise, that could have ever led Hannibal to believe that Rome would respond as she did.  Even the response was not as immediate as some scholars would wish to believe. 

One particular scholar who researched the magistrates elected during the Second Punic War revealed that, while army commanders were chosen primarily from those who had proven themselves effective generals, posts were only “filled by men who could be spared from the field of battle” .  Arguably, Rome was more than frequently facing a military situation and thus her magistrates were always elected under military circumstances, so this quote is redundant.  The election process continued on at the same pace it had before Hannibal’s invasion and it was only after the devastating battle of Cannae that the speed with which powerful commanders were put into the field increased .  So, even if Hannibal had considered the possibility of retaliation at such high political levels, it would have been a slow process, one that might not have time to come to fruition were the Carthaginians able to force the submission of Rome.  And yet, at this time “most of the men elevated to consulships had never before exercised independent command of an army.  They possessed no track-record to warrant that in an emergency they would prove equal to the challenge facing Rome” .  The Second Punic War still pitted amateur soldiers against experienced mercenaries.
The battle at Lake Trasimene was another incredible blow dealt to the Roman people.  This similarly vulnerable situation should have galvanized the Romans into action.  Instead, Hannibal was able to do precisely what he had been doing since he invaded Italy, and take reconnaissance of the area and details of the general he would face.  He learned that the marshes of Etruria would be the best place to surprise the enemy [III.78.6-8]. 

And, “on learning that… Flaminius was a thorough mod-courtier and demagogue, with no talent for the practical conduct of war and exceedingly self-confident withal, he calculated that if he passed by the Roman army and advanced into the country in his front, the Consul would on the one hand never look on while he laid it waste for fear of being jeered at by his soldiery; and on the other hand he would be so grieved that he would be ready to follow anywhere, in his anxiety to gain the coming victory for himself without waiting for the arrival of his colleague” [III.80.3-5]

“Ready to follow anywhere”, in the words of Paton translating Polybius, is precisely what the Roman commander did, sending his army along a narrow pass hemmed in by mountains on one side and the lake on the other.  They could thus only go forwards or, with difficulty, backwards. 

Admittedly, this is not a strong example of Hannibal understanding his enemy since the text was written by an historian who had the benefit of hindsight, and perhaps also a personal dislike for the general he was describing.  So let us examine the evidence for Flaminius’ actions from other sources and see if his character is clearer.

K.J. Mieklejohn believed that, in attempting to outflank Hannibal, Flaminius was himself flanked at Trasimene because he force-marched his troops to intercept the Carthaginians and did not adequately protect his vanguard .  When it came under attack and was stopped at the lake, it corked the forward motion of the rest of the Roman army and trapped it .  Marcia Patterson wrote that “Flaminius had already proved himself a successful and courageous leader”  but her explanatory footnote suggests only that he was an effective politician, not that he was a good military commander.  This is yet another example of the impetuosity of the Roman commanders for a decisive victory leading them into a dangerous situation.  They were of a mind that believed that politics and the military were indivisible when considering leadership qualities and this proved a substantial misjudgment . 

Finally, the infamous battle of Cannae represents the example of Hannibal’s good generalship shining through, knowing that his enemy would do what it had always done and act rashly.  On the alternating day allotted to the consul Varro, he takes the Romans out to engage in battle with Hannibal after days of being goaded by the Carthaginian but unable to act [III.113].  Aemilius Paullus has refused to put his army at risk and chooses instead to follow the tactics of Fabius Maximus ‘Cunctator’, the Delayer [III.112].  The emotional nature of Roman responses comes also at the end of this section, when Polybius describes the prayers and propitiations to the gods in Rome as they awaited the outcome of the inevitable battle.  “For in seasons of danger the Romans are given to propitiating both gods and men, and there is nothing at such times in rites of the kind that they regard as unbecoming or beneath their dignity” [III.112]. 

One of the weaknesses of the mid-Republican Roman army was its lack of reserve force; this is not a surprising omission since nowhere else in the Mediterranean world did citizen armies include reservists .  On the other hand, this tradition did not stop Hannibal from leaving his African troops in reserve and beginning the onslaught with Spanish and Celtic troops [III.113].  In addition, Hannibal had outfitted his troops with Roman arms, recognizing the value of such weapons as something the Romans themselves would have never had to face before [III.114].  The Romans went directly for the protruding centre of Hannibal’s line and were successfully pushing it back until they found themselves trapped with the African heavy infantry on their flanks [III.115].  Immediately they broke their formations that brought solidarity to the ranks, and began fighting almost as individuals in the melee of the battle [IIII.115].  They were annihilated where they stood.
Hannibal had, in a single brilliant stroke, taken advantage of the Roman commander’s desperation for battle and given Varro a target he would not question.  The Carthaginian strengthened his own infantry line with Roman weapons and more evenly matching the ability of his men to fight in close ranks, something the Romans had virtually monopolized previously .  He flanked the Roman army so completely that they were unable to maneuver and were functionally  wiped out.  “It seemed indeed as if Fortune were taking part against them in their struggle with adversity and meant to fill the cup to overflowing” [III.118.7].

The irony herein is that, just as Polybius described the characteristics of a bad general to implicitly allude to what makes a commander effective, so too did Hannibal reflect his own good nature in the impetuousness of his opponents.  Another irony is that despite being condemned at various points in the narrative for youthful ambition and impetuousness, it is the Romans that most clearly and consistently reflect such traits in their actions.

Polybius’ framework for the recognition of a good general puts the Romans in a very bad light but paints Hannibal as more than effective in his aims.  Why, when Polybius’ own aim was to describe the rise to power of the Roman people, would he choose to represent Hannibal as a better general than any of the consuls or dictators sent to face him?

B.D. Hoyos believes that Hannibal was an uncreative commander, whose imagination extended only to his initial route into Italy and did not go any further.  He argues with Gilbert Picard who believed Hannibal was “the perfect Hellenistic genius” , seeing more evidence for errors on the part of the Carthaginian .  It is worth noting that Hoyos does not refute the claim Picard makes that Hannibal was a Hellenistic leader.  The bulk of his support for this statement falls into a hole common among historians when he asks why Hannibal did not march on Rome after his victory at Cannae .  Hoyos writes:  “when the expected denouement to the grand invasion and victories failed to occur, his Italian strategy collapsed” .  And why does this surprise him?  Hannibal had just defeated one of the largest armies to be put in the field ever recorded [III.108].  If Hannibal were truly the Hellenistic commander Hoyos does not argue that he was, there is no reason to believe that the Carthaginian expected anything more than envoys begging for peace from Rome.  What a shock it must have been when they did not come; it is perhaps this moment of hesitation that Hoyos mistakes for banality. 

But as far as Polybius was concerned, Hannibal passed the test to be recognized as a good general.  This is supported on numerous occasions when Polybius does all that he can to defend the Carthaginian from the prejudices of contemporary history.

Arthur Eckstein presents a book reflecting the complexities of the character of Hannibal as presented to us by Polybius.  In one of the first excerpts from Book III of the Histories, Eckstein shows that Hannibal invoked all the major moral weaknesses that Polybius finds fault with.  Hannibal was young, passionate, spurned on by revenge and the memory of his father; he was full of anger and let his passions take precedent over his duty [III.15.6-11].  Polybius believes that if the Carthaginian had announced his ‘real’  intentions, of wanting the return of Corsica and Sardinia to Carthaginian control, the Second Punic War would never have begun [III.15.10].  What is interesting about this passage is that Eckstein juxtaposes it with another passage where Polybius wrote that he believed Hannibal could conduct a successful war [XI.10.6-7] . 

Polybius pardons Hannibal after his narration of the battle of Zama, naturally one might consider.  After all, the Romans have won, and what better way to honour the greatness of a victory than by praising the mighty enemy they have conquered.  “If he, who had never as yet suffered defeat, after taking every possible step to ensure victory, yet failed to do so, we must pardon him” .  However, this is not in any way a contrary or conciliatory statement made by Polybius.  Eckstein, citing Pedech’s Methode, rightly states that:  “what impresses Polybius here – as elsewhere – is the sheer quality of conduct” .

Another area of interest is Polybius’ focus on the need for a general to maintain his self-control [III.81.4-9], that the safety of one’s troops and one’s country should always be of paramount concern.  This is reconciled by Eckstein’s passage on Polybius’ belief in human greatness. 

The most explicit surviving remark on this human capacity for greatness is – interestingly enough – Polybius’ assessment of Hannibal at the height of the Second Punic War.  Here was one man in charge of the entire Punic War effort, managing not only his own personal campaign in Italy, but also bringing his will to bear with great force…simultaneously in Spain, Sicily, Greece, and Illyria as well…Polybius comments:  “Such a great and wonderful product of Nature is a man with a mind duly fitted by its original constitution for the undertaking of any project within human power” [IX.22.1-6]

There has been a great deal of discussion about why Polybius, his intentions pointing in a different direction methodologically, would laud Hannibal to such an extent as this.  Polybius was trying to show the statesmen of posterity the ways Rome rose to rule the world and thus, in a sense, to have them learn from the past.  Is he perhaps praising a worthy adversary?  Polybius met and interviewed Massinissa as the old African was nearing the end of his life and could have enjoyed stories of the man from Carthage who struck fear into the hearts of the Romans and for a very good reason.  They were facing a general who could have easily defeated them and who, on several occasions, came terrifyingly close to doing just that.  Is it possible that in Hannibal Polybius saw a man he could relate to? 

Hannibal was not the statesman Polybius was; that has already been established above.  But he was a soldier and a thinker, and that could have appealed to Polybius.  For the same reasons he defended Philopoemen and Aratus out of loyalty and a feeling that they had been unjustly treated by historians before him, Polybius treated Hannibal in a much more complimentary light than those historians.  To Polybius, historical truth was a kind of justice for those who did not speak for themselves. 
 
Bibliography

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Balsdon, J.P.V.D.  Autumn 1967.  “T. Quinctius Flamininus”, in Phoenix, Vol. 21, No. 3, pp. 177-190

Balsdon, J.P.V.D.  July-Oct. 1953.  “Some Questions about Historical Writing in the Second Century BC”, in The Classical Quarterly, New Series, Vol. 3, No. ¾, pp.158-164

Bickerman, Elias J.  1952.  “Hannibal’s Covenant”, in The American Journal of Philology, Vol. 73, No. 1, pp.1-23

Canter, H.V.  May 1929.  “The Character of Hannibal” in The Classical Journal, Vol. 24, No. 8, pp. 564-577

Champion, Craighe.  1997.  “The Nature of Authoritative Evidence in Polybius and Agelaus’ Speech at Naupactus” in Transactions of the American Philological Association, (1974-), Vol.127, pp.111-128

Crake, J.E.A.  Summer 1963.  “Roman Politics from 215 to 209 BC”, in Phoenix, Vol. 17, No. 2, pp.123-130

Cottrell, Leonard.  1992.  Hannibal, Enemy of Rome.  New York:  Da Capo Press

Davidson, James.  1991.  “The Gaze in Polybius’ Histories” in The Journal of Roman Studies, Vol. 81, pp. 10-24

Davis, E.W.  Autumn 1959.  “Hannibal’s Roman Campaign of 211 BC”, in Phoenix, Vol. 13, No. 3, pp.113-120

Donaldson, G.H.  Oct. 1962.  “Modern Idiom in an Ancient Context:  Another Look at the Strategy of the Second Punic War”, in Greece and Rome, 2nd series, Vol. 9, No. 2, pp. 134-141

Dorey, T.A.  1955.  “The Dictatorship of Minucius”, in The Journal of Roman Studies, Vol. 45, Parts 1 and 2, pp. 92-96

Eckstein, Arthur M.  1995.  Moral Vision in the Histories of Polybius.  Berkeley:  University of California Press

Franko, George Fredric.  Apr. 1994.  “The Use of Poenus and Carthaginiensis in Early Latin Literature”, in Classical Philology, Vol. 89, No. 2, pp. 153-158

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When considering gladiators in the Roman World, the tendency is always to look at them through the lens of the modern world.  Enlightenment humanism and Revolutionary ‘liberte, egalite, fraternite’ have coloured scholarly interpretation of Roman gladiators to the point where one wonders if they are indeed discussing the same subject.  It is perfectly understandable why academics would shy away from looking at gladiators in any way other than their own.  Professional biases aside, it is very hard for someone of this modern age to comprehend why watching a person die, regardless of their social status, could be anything other than bloodthirsty aggression. 

The major scholarship from the 1960s and 1970s is all too ready to associate gladiators with the incredible violence of the earlier part of the twentieth century.  Michael Grant considered it “the nastiest blood-sport ever invented”, and compares it to Nazism as “two of the most quantitatively destructive institutions” in human history .  Roland Auguet chose to focus on the bloodiness of the games as pointless cruelty with no advantage simply “to satisfy a passion or merely for pleasure” .

There were some unfocused attempts in scholarship to appreciate Roman gladiators for something more than bloody violence.  Auguet himself hinted at a ‘magic’ within the amphitheatre but associated it with a primitive baseness inherent in the combats .  Gladiators had their traditions in funerary rituals and , due to associations with death, the death of a combatant was considered sacrificial blood for the deceased.  Theories about human sacrifice still rest in the realm of blood, a visceral but also visual experience, and that tangible element deters from more transcendental elements at the games. 

This trend – bloodthirsty but fascinating – continued throughout the 1970s and 1980s, but following that a new surge in scholarship inundated the field with new more psychological theories about gladiatorial combat.  Marilyn Skinner’s research on sexuality in the ancient world , and particularly the way a gladiator’s sexuality appealed to the audience at the amphitheatre, introduced a new way of looking at the events in the arena as socially interactive rather than senselessly violent.  Alison Futrell chose to address the spiritual side of gladiatorial games more bluntly than had Roland Auguet, but still held fast to the idea that it was a spectacular and very public form of human sacrifice .  She most succinctly describes the problem faced by modern scholars:  “how to reconcile the bloodiness of the arena and the events it sheltered with the arena’s centrality in Roman society” .  And yet she still hinges her theories and questions on ‘bloodiness’.

Shelby Brown suggested violence in degrees, stating that not enough study has been done “to identify those factors that legitimized the ‘violent’ acts of the arena in their own time and context”, that “physical hurt done to others [was] only considered violence in certain social contexts” .  She draws renewed attention to Auguet’s idea about distance – both Futrell and Brown believes that the boundaries were vital for the games to function  – the ‘real’ architectural boundary between the spectators and the fighters leads to a psychological boundary as well between the legitimate citizens (or even the accepted members of society) and those who have been cast out, made infamis. 

The issue of social respectability opened up the debate in a powerful way when DS Potter and DJ Mattingly published their collection of articles in “Life, Death, and Entertainment in the Roman World” in 1999 .  This book’s insights into elite male identity pointedly juxtaposed with entertainment spectacles in ancient Rome draw immediate attention to the wide variety of links that can be forged between the two .  Roman masculinity was mutated almost beyond recognition by gladiators in the arena, but held fast to some innately Roman characteristics such as courage and virtue.  A great deal of irony persisted in existence of a gladiator who was infamis but could display virtus, a purely male trait, and would incurred such emotional reactions from an audience who should not have deigned to feel when a slave died. 

In fact, the very effect of a slave performing and exhibiting these exclusively male Roman virtues was both a safety mechanism and a dangerously ambiguous situation.  It was safe because it allowed a slave to do what was normally totally unacceptable for a slave and because the ultimate stop-mechanism of death was available to the whim of the audience.  It was dangerous because a slave was given a venue in which to act like a Roman citizen, a comparison kept cleanly out of law and society everywhere else, and thus the arena provided a catalyst for the exhibition of some of Rome’s most cherished virtues.

K.R. Bradley has done extensive work on slavery in the last several decades and has been able to illuminate the ‘reality’ (as an acknowledged anachronism) of slavery in many different cultures .  However, because the nature of his work has spanned millennia in which major sociological and psychological ideas have been developed, he is unable to look at Roman slavery without a modern humanist ideology backing his thought processes.  His judgments based on those biases make his approach to ancient slavery hopelessly anachronistic.

It is the work of Carlin Barton that has best been able to convey the sheer complexity of the sentiments felt towards gladiators in the Roman world in her various books and articles by combining sexuality, elite masculinity, slavery versus citizenship, and the very intensity of the large audiences at the arena .  There is no doubt that the gladiatorial games were intense emotional experiences, both for the individuals performing and spectating and for the collective audience, and that this was a semi-regular part of the urban social life in the Roman Empire.

Despite the breadth of theories circulating about gladiatorial combat and its socio-political implications, the research done to this point has been almost exclusively theoretical.  Nowhere in the current scholarship has the problem of dealing with this subject matter from a more Roman perspective ever been effectively dealt with.  Admittedly, approaching anything even partially resembling a Roman perspective can itself be considered theoretical, or even fantastical.  But the modern world is not so far removed from the ancient world that even a breath of that viewpoint is impossible.

The most abstract yet potentially highly revealing remnants available for study are the artistic representations of gladiators produced by the Romans themselves.  As with all forms of art, what is drawn from the medium depends largely on who is viewing it.  However, this can be of use in the current study.  The artistic representations that remain extant from the first and second centuries CE are often but not always details of live-action events witnessed by the artist (or in some cases, the manufacturer).  These artists were not bound to produce photographic or realistic accuracy but instead created their own personal impressions as well as recognizable social standards of the time.  To study gladiatorial representations, one must only look at what was created in mosaics, painting, ceramics etc. to see what was emphasized, embellished, and recognizable to capture a glimpse of what artists saw when they looked at gladiators.

Mosaics were a major part of Roman domestic architecture and decoration.  They were representative of avenues of privilege within the Roman house and of available points of view.  As Amos Rapoport states with such cerebral complexity, the social nature of the house within a culture depends almost exclusively on the sets of actions that occurred within it and the meaning invested by those action sets on the larger architectural space .  There is no place were cooking is done:  there is a kitchen where it is understood that the preparation of food is undertaken at certain times of the day, month, or year, and that functions as something else altogether at different times (ie. a social gathering place).  It is the understanding of the activities within a particular space and time that defines it, not the activities or the space or the time themselves.

Thus, the choice to permanently represent gladiators in any of these spaces is remarkable.  A very public and communal social event, reserved almost entirely to communities with enough urbanization to include an amphitheatre (either temporary or permanent), has been reduced and manipulated to suit the transitive public/private nature of a Roman house.  This style of decoration does maintain its elite status implications as mosaics were frequently commissioned and thus prohibitively expensive.  Only those members of society with the means and the physical space to encompass a mosaic would have one.

David Fredrick applies this opulent elitism to the use of erotic subject matter in domestic decoration to identify the value inherent in such choices.  There are architectural boundaries in a house that limit access and draw attention to the limitations of one’s social class as well as what the owner of the house wishes different levels of society to see .  An architectural feature that limits access either physically or visually, when crossed, represented a social achievement.  The house’s ability to reflect the nature and complexities of society was reinforced by the choices made in decoration.  This conversational potential of the house, its occupants, and its visitors provide yet another dimension to the analysis of gladiatorial representations in domestic decoration.

Of the many mosaics that have survived the turmoil of the past two millennia, perhaps the most famous and most recognizable is the floor mosaic found in a villa near Zliten in Tripolitania, North Africa. Its fame stems from the fact that, apart from damage to one side of the gladiator border, the Zliten floor mosaic is almost entirely intact and narrates the full order of events at a gladiatorial show .

From clockwise, top left of the full image, musicians lead in the procession, followed by fighting pairs of gladiators.  These are in turn followed by the condemnation of criminals ad bestias where they are torn apart by wild animals, and the show concludes with beast hunts called venationes.  Clearly there is a temporal discrepancy here, since most scholars believe that the gladiators would have walked in behind the musicians and been introduced in an informal way before commencing battle, but the artist chose to show the dynamism of the event rather than the temporal reality. 

Another element of this mosaic, identified by Christine Kondoleon, is the value of the white background that lacks any horizon .  It is as if the performers are floating in air.  The fact that this is a floor mosaic, found in one of the atria of the villa near Zliten, makes the need for a horizon redundant.  Not only would this mosaic have been viewed from a superior position vertically, creating a horizon within the space of the room, but the need for an artistically rendered setting would have detracted from the emphasis.  Again, the artist (or perhaps at the behest of the commissioner of the piece) chose to focus on the players within the gladiatorial show, not on the atmosphere.  It is considered likely that this representation depicts an actual day of games, perhaps patronized by the owner of the house . 

However, what is most remarkable about the reputation of this mosaic is that the gladiator representation is but a frieze, the surrounding border of a much larger part of the floor.  The central floor is a series of alternating geometric styles and designs that provides a busy decoration to a large atrium.  The use of gladiators and venatores is but a superfluous addition to a rather abstract main image. 

The fact that gladiators could be used in decoration as something other than the ‘main attraction’ shows that, although we may be endlessly fascinated by gladiators, the Romans were not as obsessive about focusing attention on them to achieve any kind of social discourse.  This may be because the Romans had more access to the actual gladiatorial events or because this particular villa owner’s tastes did not run in that direction.  However, if the theory that the owner may have financed the games represented on the mosaic is valid, the need to emphasize this could have been overwhelming.  In this case, the focus is not on the gladiators in the frieze for this floor mosaic.  And yet, if it were, how would it measure up to the established theories about gladiators?

Violence is a recognizable element of this mosaic.  One of the gladiators bleeds profusely from a wound to his leg.  Heavily-armed pairs fight in close combat and, in one case, a gladiator has his opponent pinned by the neck.  There are even two men dressed in simple white attire acting as a sort of referee.  The actions and persons of the gladiators are emphasized by the lack of horizon, but nowhere is there any hint of a ritualized slaughter.  There is practically no control here, nothing that would give a solemn or reverent air to the event.  Even the two referees are vastly outnumbered by the gladiators themselves.  There is also nothing in this mosaic that would seem to be glorifying death or violence; otherwise why would each gladiator be so carefully depicted with arms and armour unique to each man?  If violence were the ultimate aim and goal, what difference would it make if all the fighting pairs looked exactly the same?

The emphasis seems to be on the fighters themselves and their conduct at these games.  Again, the temporal abstract plays a role here because it allowed the artist to depict several pairs of fighters at different stages of combat simultaneously.  If indeed gladiators had fought in pairs altogether in this instance rather than one pair at a time as has been attested elsewhere , the possibility that they would not all be fighting at the same pace is evident.  But the fact that each figure stands so close to his neighbour suggests that the artist was depicting several fights in one frieze that did not occur all at once and had limited space with which to accomplish this. 

Despite the fact that the gladiator frieze is a part of a larger floor mosaic, great care was taken in depicting each fighter as realistically as possible.  This mosaic was meant to be looked at and, as it occupied a room that saw perhaps the most human traffic in the house, it was meant to be looked at by more than one level of society.  The care and detail taken in this extensive mosaic is part of the visual experience.  To elite visitors, it would remind them of the particular gladiatorial show financed by the owner and, possibly, the effectiveness of those games.  To lower class, it would also remind them of the games, but instill in them a sense of awe, perhaps as they paced around the room waiting for an audience with their patron .  There is a subtlety to the games narrative at Zliten stemming from its ability to be innocuous and eye-catching simultaneously.  It is not the main part of the floor but it forces the viewer’s eye to follow the procession, from the musicians to the venationes and (from what can be discerned of the damaged side) wild animals. 
The Zliten mosaic presents a vividly different understanding of gladiatorial games than the theories presented in the past four decades by modern scholars.  Blood and gore are certainly not the order of the day, nor is there any evidence of ritual human sacrifice.  Instead, the artist has given his or her representation of the games a new audience.  The amphitheatre (or any other setting, for that matter) does not figure into this mosaic.  Instead the viewer is invited to follow the procession around the floor and appreciate the craftsmanship that created it.  The reverence that is cannot be used to identify sacrifice is meant for the piece of art itself and for the event that inspired it, and is due from the audience.  The simplicity of the figures and their place in a greater geometric design emphasize this.  These figures draw the viewers’ focus to the fighting, not the dying or even necessarily the blood in one case, and the fighting is intense and individualistic.  Each combatant, though similarly armed is not identically armed, and they are all fighting their own battles.

To take another example for consideration, a villa near Nennig in Germany yielded yet another astonishing atrium floor mosaic.  The Nennig mosaic was created about a hundred years later and in a very different style from the one at Zliten.  Rather than a square shape with a border and geometric abstracts in the centre, the Nennig mosaic is an example of the use of emblemata.  Implementing individual images, either pre-made or made on site and added to the floor individually, these are distinct from a mosaic that is created to encompass them.

In this case, the musicians, gladiators, beasts, and beast-fighters are the central focus of the floor and the abstract geometric designs were created to draw the eye to them, to enshrine them.  Not only that, the emblema that depicts two gladiators and a referee is the largest and most prominent on the floor, offset by a water basin at the opposite end of the atrium .  The geometric designs add substance or ‘busy-ness’ to the floor, but also serve to illusively raise the emblemata from the surface of the floor.  It immediately draws the viewer’s attention to these very specific sections of the floor, adding emphasis but creating a disjunction between the abstract and the concrete images .  This is again very different from the Zliten mosaic where the gladiators represented where not the main part of the floor but a periphery; Nennig’s gladiators are very clearly the central focal point of this floor.

This artist has again chosen to depict all the major elements of a gladiatorial show:  musicians, beasts, beast-fighters, and gladiators.  The order is entirely ambiguous, however, while the gladiator emblema is noticeably the most important feature.

Here again there is no horizon, only a background of white tesserae, but Nennig also includes shadows on the ground from the three figures, something the Zliten mosaicist did not do.  The shadows accomplish two things:  first, it draws attention to the time of day being late afternoon ; second, it adds emphasis to the sheer bulk of the two fighting gladiators, and thus also symbolic or psychological weight to the combat itself.  Of the two gladiators, the retiarius or ‘net-man’ faces the viewer, who is thus able to see a bare chest glistening with sweat and muscles tensed as he thrusts his trident at his opponent. 

From the descriptions of elite masculine identity in Potter and Mattingly’s book, such nudity was highly provocative.  Elite Roman men were not physically fit in a way that would appeal to the modern western world; the belief was that a visibly toned body was a sign that a man was forced to engage in manual labour and was not financially secure enough to be a man of leisure .  The body of a wealthy man was softer and thus more indicative of his status within society.  Muscular strength was not a coveted attribute.  The sensuality of a bare-chested gladiator was therefore that much more powerful because it represented the lowest social class, (even lower than a legitimate class since many gladiators were slaves), put on display for an audience of primarily Roman citizens.  In this way, the gladiator was a man to be revered and reviled.  He was recognizably beneath contempt for much of Roman society but he was an integral part of that society’s understanding of itself, which made him inherently symbolize that society. 

This introduces a new layer to Roman conceptions of gladiators, one that Carlin Barton, Marilyn Skinner, and Shelby Brown have attempted to eke out in modern scholarship .  The epitome of perfection for an elite Roman male was to be able to embody virtus – virtues that make a man a man such as courage, skill, military excellence  – and this ideology did not change overmuch throughout the course of Roman Imperial history, despite a gradual separation of the citizen-soldier into each component.  A gladiator, being infamis and therefore socially inert, was the polar opposite or ultimate negation of the elite Roman male.  Slaves and anyone else upon whose bodies were placed a value or who used their bodies for monetary gain were so despised that they were not legitimate members of society.  Not unlike the metics of Classical Athens who existed in society but outside of it, gladiators were nebulous entities that society did not recognize legally but who were accepted on a basic social level. 

Gladiators were a particularly unique part of this group because, although they put their bodies on display for the pleasure of the audience, the reverence felt by the audience (either in the arena or domestically) was directed at the fighters who best represented the virtus that was exclusively reserved for the elite upper classes.  Simply put, even though they looked like slaves, they could potentially display the ultimate ideal of romanitas (Roman-ness).  This state of flux is what gives the gladiator his power.  He is not bound by a social norm, something the Romans were adept at preserving at all costs, but is able to use his status to a sublime purpose.  The audience would have been sensitive to this contradiction and thus more willing to appreciate the transcendence of the gladiator beyond the realm of worldly existence.  He had become a symbol for society, a complex and highly culture-specific figure, and as a result could extend beyond the physical person in the arena into the representation inside a private house. 

Domestic decoration using gladiatorial images provides modern scholars with the undiluted representation of what the gladiator stood for in Roman society.  Aggression, violence, blood, and sacrifice do not figure into mosaic art because they were not the primary focal point at the games.  They were a reality of the events in the amphitheatre but were clearly not substantial enough aspects of the audience’s interest to warrant including them in domestic art, because nowhere are they attested in extant Roman mosaics .  Marilyn Skinner’s book Sexuality in Greek and Roman Culture shows that the Romans used erotic or otherwise provocative images without hesitation .  Instead, fighting figures in moments of ambiguity or suspense act as symbolic representations of the nature of the experience in the amphitheatre.
The fact that mosaicists were under no compunction to represent gladiators with photographic accuracy and yet did so much of the time shows that the standard set in art had been forged in the amphitheatre.  What was being offered up for interpretation necessitated a degree of recognition of what was being represented.  The viewer had to be able to recognize the gladiator before them in order to comprehend the depth of comprehension required for the subject matter.  The gladiator had become a symbol so deeply standardized in physical reality that that same iconographic permanence existed in artistic representations as well .  The same conversation between viewer and viewed that occurred in the amphitheatre thus also existed in domestic decorative representations of gladiators. 

There was clearly a cultural imperative in the conversation that occurred over gladiatorial subjects.  The very fact that such a powerful aspect of public life could be transposed into the private sphere with relative ease is indicative of this fact.  But here is where the dissimilarities between the Roman and modern worlds end.  The continual use of gladiators as subjects in art, either predominantly or otherwise, alludes to the theory that the Romans themselves were never fully satisfied with the result.  Interest in gladiators continued over centuries of Imperial rule even as gladiatorial shows became more exclusive but also more frequent .  Exposure to them did not seem to lessen their value in society as an integral element of social discourse. 
It seems that Roman artists had the same difficulties with the subject of gladiators as modern scholars do, although the artists had the luxury of being culturally intimate with gladiatorial events.  However, it is clear that, unlike with modern theories about gladiators, the emphasis was not on violence or bloodthirstiness but did include a powerful relationship between the fighters and the audience and between the mosaic and the observer.  This opens up a wide breach in the study of gladiatorial representations as questions of iconography, convention, and artistic language for this subject immediately arise.  Was there something specific that Roman artists wanted to convey about gladiators besides the need for further consideration?  Is there a language of symbols unique to gladiatorial representation?  Do these symbols transcend amphitheatre subjects into other images in art?  These are questions that will be addressed in more detail in later works .
 
Bibliography

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Davidson argues that, unlike the historical interpretation that ‘gaze’ is a “substantial unitary reality”, gaze in Polybius is presented through characters and readers and hence identifies multiple gazes.  This competition of narratives is especially evident in Book III.  Generals’ speeches also represent an element in the “struggle over the interpretation of events” where, for example, Scipio’s analysis of Hannibal’s Alpine crossing evolves into expressing the obstacle, not as the mountains, but as the fear his crossing invoked in the Roman people.  The focus of the Histories is on the differing realities and the development and tension of those realities.  His basic reasoning lies in the fact that Polybius writes about dangerous deeds, not danger itself, because perceptions lead to greater surprise and reactionary tactics by the opponent.  There are the perceptions of the combatants themselves, of third parties assessing the situation, and Macedon and Greek states considering each other.  On top of that, Polybius’ readers are looking at all these in turn, reinforcing his belief that one can only understand what one examines from every angle. 

Davidson proceeds to discuss the ‘didactic arena’, the simile of readers as spectators in something resembling a boxing match.  Polybius often describes war as a fighting contest between:  the two opponents, the blows exchanged, the opponent him-/herself, and between the spectators and each opponent.  As combatants are aware that they are on show so too is military warfare a show of superiority, and that show of strength can be the obstacle, irregardless of its reality.  Davidson believes Polybius chose to focus on the perceptions because they are the more powerful.  Finally there are levels in the narrative that enhance these perceptions:  the military action level, (the event), the signifying action level, (the perception of that action), and the pathological level involving the response to the perception.  Polybius’ focus is again on the second of these, emphasizing how the ‘daring’ of a person accomplishes a specific perception with the intention to weaken or dumbfound the opponent, ensuring victory through demoralization. 

According to Davidson, Polybius believed that demonstrations of power were the key in warfare.  Hence, he sees the Romans exacting a pre-emptive imperialism, holding off the ambitions of others with their own perceived might.  He concludes with a brief sketch of Polybius, and expresses hope that his examination of the gaze in Polybius can be applied to other ancient authors.